Honestly, when I walked into the torture chamber, my first thought was that the woman at the Resort’s concierge desk might have been exaggerating a little, when she referred to the “Impaler of Anguish,” as one of the Resort’s newest and most fiendishly diabolical attractions. Don’t get me wrong, the Impaler’s massive bulging six-inch diameter dildo shaped tip looked intimidating and capable of doing some seriously painful damage, but fiendishly diabolical?

Looking at the bulging tip of that Impaler, I felt that familiar and darkly terrifying sense of masochistic anticipation. I naively looked forward to finding out just how painfully torturous the “Impaler of Anguish,” would turn out to be. From experience, I knew that impalement is always agonizingly painful, but I thought I could handle it. Sadly, as it turns out, I was horrifyingly mistaken.

Hanging helplessly above the massive steel tip of the Impaler with my ankles locked securely within the heavy ankle spreader’s restraints, I could see the distinctive look of evil sadistic anticipation in the torturer’s dark eyes as he pressed the Impaler’s activation button. The impalement post between my legs slowly started to rise with a noticeable humming sound, a sound that at first I mistakenly assumed came from the powerful motors driving the deadly shaft upward. It took almost five minutes before I discovered the actual reason for that humming sound.

It turns out, that while high-powered electric motors drive the Impaler’s massive shaft, those motors are completely silent, and it was the powerful vibrator built into the shaft’s intimidating dildo shaped tip that actually caused that noticeable humming sound, something I discovered the moment the cold phallic tip of the slowly rising impalement shaft reached the warm moist folds of my sex. Already suffering from a masochistic anticipation heightened state of arousal my first orgasm arrived long before the bulging tip of the shaft fully disappeared into my vagina.

I could feel the dildo’s cold steel presence slipping relentlessly deeper into my belly. The pain steadily growing as my straining insides attempted to stretch to accommodate its monstrous girth, the mounting discomfort only helping to intensify the erotic mix of pleasure and pain coursing through my mind as the powerful vibrations pushed me into a long series of unstoppable, almost overwhelming, orgasms. Well, that is until the pain completely overwhelmed all thoughts of pleasure.

At first, it was just a growing sensation of pressure deep within my belly easily lost in the waves of orgasmic pleasure but thoughts of pleasure quickly gave way to a level of excruciating pain that I’d never before experienced. In desperation, I used my arms to lift myself upward off the Impaler’s torturously painful tip, but the relief turned out to be short-lived as the impalement shaft slowly rose unto the overwhelming pain returned compelling me once again to try to delay the inevitable. This torturous dance continued for another three minutes until I found it impossible for my trembling arms to lift my body higher. Seeing that I couldn’t escape the agonizing attentions of the Impaler’s shaft the torturer finally relented and released the activation switch causing the impalement shaft to stop. I could see the look of sadistic satisfaction in his eyes as he paused to enjoy the look of unimagined agony in my eyes before he turned and walking out of the torture chamber closed the heavy soundproof door.

I remember struggling desperately for just over an hour, all the time knowing, deep down, what the inevitable outcome would be. As time passed the muscles of my arms, and shoulders grew steadily weaker and the intervals of agonizing pain grew longer as I found it increasingly harder to gain even a few precious seconds of relief.

The end when it came seemed almost anti-climactic. I felt a momentary sickening sensation deep inside my belly and a sudden decrease in the agonizing level of pain I was enduring. I also realized my body was quickly sinking deeper onto the impalement shaft until I once again hung helplessly from my wrists.

I knew I was dying. I could feel blood running down the insides of my thighs. The Impaler’s massive dildo sharp tip also did some serious damage when it ruptured my diaphragm and slid up into my chest. I could taste blood in the back of my throat, and it was gradually getting harder to breathe as I realized I was slowly drowning in my own blood.

I awoke several hours later within one of the Resort’s regeneration tanks, as the green mystery fluid that fills the tank quickly drained away. My first thought, that even after spending over 30 years as a masochistic member of the Resort’s Vacation Club, I think I need to reevaluate my definition of “Fiendishly Diabolical.”

Ironically, it wasn’t until several days later, at one of the Resort’s popular beach-front bars that I discovered the awful truth concerning the “Impaler of Anguish” fiendishly diabolical nature from a woman who died on it a few days before I did. Visiting the Resort with her two grown daughters, she’d instinctively recognized the painful experience from two profoundly personal experiences, the births of her daughters. Diabolically, the “Impaler of Anguish” compresses the pain a woman typically experiences during the normal 5 to 12 hours of labor leading up to childbirth so that she lives through it in less than 90 minutes. And that sickening sensation I felt just before the pain level suddenly decreased, the moment the bulging tip of the Impaler’s dildo shaped tip finally slipped upward through my cervical canal and into my womb. Like the woman at the Resort’s concierge desk stated, a “Fiendishly Diabolical” attraction.

Later that night, I waited within one of the Resorts torture chambers for someone I’d known for over 20 years, a devastatingly handsome gentleman with a delightfully sadistic sense of humor. I couldn’t help but stare in fascination at the attractions all too familiar buzz saw, 550 pounds of razor-sharp tungsten steel that I knew from personal experience would brutally rip through a woman’s body, cutting her open from her crotch to the top of her head in less than 30 seconds.

And, I knew that when he arrives, he’s bringing two wine glasses and a bottle of my favorite vintage, a Cheval Blanc 1947. We’ll spend the next hour flirting, our kisses, between sips of wine, growing more passionate until by the time the wine is gone so will be our clothes. Setting aside our empty glasses, he’ll tenderly pick me up and lie me back along the buzz saw’s raised guide rail before locking the restraints tightly around my wrists. Then pausing to kiss me, he’ll straddle the guide rail and bring my legs up, positioning one high-heel clad foot above each of his shoulders and happily spend the next 4 hours fucking me senseless, so by the time he’s finished sating his lustful desires I’ll be little more than an orgasm exhausted piece of quivering female flesh. And unlike those commercials, here at the Resort, if you’re using their version of male enhancement drugs, only call a doctor if your erection doesn’t last for at least four hours.

And, I’ve always loved the way he lingers after locking my ankles in the restraints, his skillful hands caressing my body as his demanding lips draw one final desperately passionate kiss from mine before he switches on that buzz saw.

Still, as I stood there staring at that ominous looking buzz saw, I have to admit that even after more than 30 years it’s rare for one of the Resort’s exclusive Vacation Club only attractions not to be something I’d consider “Fiendishly Diabolical...”